The Score: A Parker Novel by Richard Stark

Author:Richard Stark
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: University of Chicago Press

6

Chambers brought the truck up at eleven-thirty, using the parking lights only. The rest were waiting for him in the darkness at the top. In the last three days, they hadn't seen a single stranger, afoot or in a car or even in a plane. They might as well have been the last people on earth.

Parker and Salsa and Edgars carried machine guns—Parker had discovered, to his surprise, that Edgars already knew how to operate a tommy—and Grofield, Chambers, and Littlefield carried rifles. Salsa and Parker both also wore pistols, as did Kerwin and Phillips and Paulus and Wycza and Wiss and Elkins. Parker and Salsa and Wycza and Grofield had walkie-talkies strapped to their backs.

Chambers was to drive the truck, Littlefield the station wagon. Phillips and Edgars and Grofield were to ride in the wagon, the rest in the truck.

Chambers cut the parking lights as soon as he stopped the truck. There was no moon, but the sky was clear and full of stars. There was enough vague light to see by, sufficient for everyone to board.

Six men climbed into the back of the truck and sat along the sides, bracing themselves for the bumpy ride to come. Paulus and Wycza and Kerwin on one side, Wiss and Elkins and Salsa on the other. The safe men's equipment was to ride in the station wagon, where it would get a less bumpy trip.

Parker went over to the station wagon and said to Littlefield, “Remember, give us five minutes. Well run slower than you, you can catch up when we get to town.”

“Right.”

“Don't catch up before we pass the trooper barracks.”

“I remember, Parker.”

“See you later.”

Parker went back to the truck, took off his walkie-talkie, and climbed up into the cab with Chambers. He put the walkie-talkie on the floor between his legs and said, “All set.”

Chambers put on his parking lights again, and the truck jolted forward.

It was seven miles to the secondary road, and they did it at a crawl, not because of the bumps but because of the bad visibility. Chambers leaned far over the wheel, peering out through the windshield at the dimly seen dirt road. Beside him, Parker lit a cigarette and sat quiet. The last few minutes before a job, he was always quiet, almost in suspended animation. He had no imagination for the few hours ahead, nor worry, nor anticipation, nor anything else. His consciousness worked at the level of recording the jouncing of the truck cab and the feel of the cigarette smoke and the darkness beyond the windshield.

They got to the secondary road and made their turn, and Chambers sighed. He sat back more comfortably, switched on his headlights, and the truck picked up speed. After a minute, Chambers said, “You ever get scared, times like this, Parker?”

Parker roused himself, and said, “No.”

“You're lucky. I could use me a jolt of store-bought blended right about now.” He laughed, a little shakily. “If them streams would of been wine,” he said, “they'd be dry right now.

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